Wednesday, March 25, 2009

I thoroughly cleaned and scrubbed down my "dining room" to get ready for the White Nite release party, but then I found this lovely road kill turkey

and I couldn't help myself... Now there are assorted turkey pelt parts strewn across the freshly scrubbed linoleum floor. Buddy "JB" took the carcass after I skinned it to salvage the breast meat and eat it. For me the question mark of how fresh and clean the bird was was enough to prevent me from eating it, but apparently JB has a higher question mark threshold tolerance. Every time I try to process road kill, I feel like a less than graceful bumbling person. I wish I had more skills, but every project is so unique- it's hard to imagine mastering them all. I am going to attempt making a turkey bone turkey call whistle out of the wing bones. Of course it's weird trying to learn something from written instructions. Does anyone reading this know about this matter? Love y'all.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

"spring wind threw my list of things to do away"



I love that Greg Brown song Spring Wind. Anyways, today I romped around the woods looking for spring life and wildflowers, mushrooms and such. I went to one of my favorite spots to romp. It was so warm and the breeze was so balmy I decided it might be nice to engage in some partial disenrobement. However, once I got on the trail, I thought, even though in my 12 years of frequenting that spot and only ever running into someone once, I better re-robe my upper portion, just in case. Only a few minutes later, I ran into a duo of dudes in all camo- they were rushing down the trail. I was so glad to be covered. Those guys told me they had parked on an old fire road and gone into the woods for just a few minutes and then returned to leave to find that their car was stolen. That was freaky, but the day was so lovely, I carried on. I discovered it's still a little early for morels, but some of the early wildflowers are doing their thing in a most spectacular fashion. I harvested nettles for dinner and will cook them later by the light of a fire. Do you think they would be good as fried cakes with potatoes, cheese from the Mechos and pear chutney? I do.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Stacey's B-day at Tarwheels: a photo journey

Random girl text messaging while skating (what the..._

Birthday girl wearing a "Too Cute to Shoot" Bambi shirt

I never knew Susie was a skake whiz, but she is.

Stewball rocks his roller blades.

This is a poem Kerry wrote inspired by my "situation"


3 polaroids,
a compass with its crystal cracked
and a lady hawk’s wing
hang above the front window
of her not-quite antique Airstream--
her metal mobile
in the scoop of the land.
Also within:
tea leaves and lace doilies,
some horse’s hair,
a turtle shell,
dried lavender,
black grapes and an onion,
lemon zest,
fresh cow’s milk and of course
the moonshine her neighbor
left her for the favor
of a late-night pick-up tow.

Silk flowers line a trail that
bends backwards through
the darkness of the trees
to the twin-seated outhouse
whose walls boast
a portrait of some slick sailor
and a Blessed Virgin print.

Behind the jake
and beyond the creek,
beyond the temporary electric pole,
beyond the collection of dog bowls,
and the tangle of the honeysuckle
there looms a farmhouse,
once bright and tabasco,
now stripped and sallow,
filled with rocks and old remnants:
burlap sacks,
old socks and a child’s saddle,
some coca-cola cans,
a pitchfork, shovel and rake,
three rubber boots
and a sand-pile.

This, her home,
here and there,
down the path,
through the trees,
across the hollow –
seems all bound together
with metal, moss, and mud.

By Kerry Ferguson

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Dear God, Please let everyone be a little more like Moonie...

Dear God, I'm not trying to micromanage or anything, but perhaps you might be interested in making everyone be a little more like Moonie. It might help things a bit, not the least of which would be morale. I mean with her good sense and wit, her cute smile, her work ethic and her talent, how could you go wrong? I mean, for the love of God (which is you), if a 17 year old can take a newborn lamb who has been rejected by its mother and is convulsing on death's door and successfully put a tube down its throat and into its stomach and feed it with colastrum and save its little life singlehandedly (when the rest of the family is gone) why can't more people be so compitent? If you can't make everyone more like Moonie, could you at least make a few people more like Moonie? Please?
Love, Dana

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Chemistry in Action

Don't get excited- this is not a post about romantic chemistry... It is about a little project I have going in an actual Chemistry lab- the ABTECH Biolab to be exact. I am using a basic steam distillation system to produce my own rosemary essential oil from rosemary grown at the Mountain Magnolia! Plant matter is placed into a glass "biomass flask" and then that flask is attached over a boiling vat of water. The steam flows through a "condenser," which has ice water circulating around it (by a pump which is in a container of ice water), and then down into a "still head," which seperates the hydrosol (basically rosemary water) from the essential oil. It is very cool. As I type I am sitting here watching the distillation in progress. If you get a haircut from me anytime soon, it is likely I will annoint your precious head with a drop or two of the pure oil.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

"The Girl is Mine": a tribute to Michael Jackson, Paul McCartney, Susie Mosher, and Meg Renwick

Sunday. It was a cold and snowy night and I had gotten home in the nick of time to avoid dangerous road conditions. I was busy entertaining myself with home made blackberry wine (from a Carnivorous Plant grower friend) and herbal cream making. I cranked up a "party mix" on itunes and settled in for a fun productive evening. About an hour and a glass of potent wine into things, there was a surprising knock on the door. One does not expect on one cold snowy blustery night tucked deep into a holler that one will receive a surprising knock on one's Airstream door. It was Susie, good friend and neighbor, with a red nose and head lamp and snow all over. Well, let the fun begin.
First I served her up a White Russian snow cream- kahlua, cream and snow. Then I busted out the brandy and we sipped that like old men. I made a couple batches of herbal cream and Susie hung out. The fun jumped up a few notches when Michael Jackson and Phil Collin's hit "The Girl is Mine" came on the party shuffle. Susie went hog wild. She listened to the song 4 times in a row, memorizing the words and dancing like there was no tomorrow.

"Every night she walks right in my dreams
Since I met her from the start
I'm so glad I am the only one
Who is precious in her heart.
The girl is mine....
The doggone girl is mine!"
The song goes on in a melodic love ballad duet (or dual.. however you want to look at it.) At the end of the song there is a show up between Paul and Michael which is very very clever and convincing...

"Michael, we're not gonna fight about it."
"Paul, I think I told you-
I'm a lover not a fighter!"
"She told me I'm her forever lover you know"
"Well after loving me she said she could never love another"
"Is that what she said- I don't believe it!"
"You keep dreamin'- the girl is mine!!!"

The thing is, Susie really reminds me a lot of my dear friend Meg, who I reference a lot on this blog (Austin, Texas dweller). They don't know each other, but they are cosmic humor twins on this planet. For my 9th birthday, my mom hosted me a lip syncing talent show party. Every one was to come dressed to the nines like their favorite singer and do a lip syncing performance of a song. Meg, bless her twisted heart, came as Michael Jackson AND Paul McCartney, with half of her face and one arm painted a light brown color (to represent Michael of course before he turned white). She performed a most memorable rendition of "The Girl is Mine", turning her head to showcase the different parts of her face at different moments in the song.
Why, oh Why do both Susie and Meg have an obsession with this song?

(So that Kerry does not feel neglected, I will note that she came to the party as a very convincing Elton John with huge bug eye sunglasses and all, but for some reason I think she cried during or before or after her performance- does anyone remember the details???)

Susie left late that night and hiked home to her shack in the snow. A good time was had by all. We are planning to maybe work out a dance routine to "The Girl is Mine." Maybe we can convince her man Todd to be the "Girl" in our routine. We could tease his curly hair and make have him carry a Kotex or something.